Another Rose
by Achenar
Summary: Because sometimes destiny is the only reason. UsagiSeiya, but sans Mamorubashing.
1. Reminiscence

Summary: Because sometimes destiny is the only reason. Usagi/Seiya, but sans Mamoru-bashing.

A/N: I couldn't help but notice, when watching Stars, that Usagi and Seiya had about a thousand times more chemistry than Usagi and Mamoru ever did. So. Short drabble, may or may not continue it; idea's been in my head a while but I haven't written properly in years.

They were about six months into their marriage – into their reign – before the overwhelming declarations of adoration began to dry up.

They had saved the Earth in all its beauty together more times than one could count; he and she had been captured, had been near death, had sacrificed themselves for the safety of the people. They had saved their daughter, decades before her birth, as often; something about the young girl attracted the attentions of darkness frequently, at least until she began to mature enough to fight back. And then she had returned to her time, leaving her parents all-too-aware of their destiny as married monarchs, protecting their worlds from outside influences.

They had been brought together through the basest of human instincts, physical attraction and the adrenaline of battle. With knowledge of their future so clear, they had clung together – perhaps mostly on the part of Usagi, already dedicated to a relationship not given chance to blossom.

And yet – despite all her optimism, despite her desperate heartbreak when Mamoru left for America to pursue his dreams – in retrospect Usagi could still see that there was something of desperation in the way their relationship continued.

And yet - there was Chibi-Usa, and the future of the world, to be thinking of. Surely if their daughter was to be born, their love was true and right for the people of their world.

And yet - when the desperation began to relax, because look, here /was/ the future - and they were crowned and their world and their people living in total peace, and here was Chibi-Usa, slowly growing within the Queen's belly – something started to occur to them.

Because in constantly close proximity, living and eating and breathing together, they found that, really, the romance faded.

Because, when they had both realized that everything they were doing, projecting the airs of newlywed monarchs with nothing to concern them in the world, they had discussed it. And they had realized that, while they were the closest of friends – closer even than the Inner Senshi, because pillow talk is something different but in many ways more – there wasn't really that spark, that chemistry, that they had been clinging to forever.

Because, when Mamoru presented a single red rose to her at the official announcement of her pregnancy, Usagi couldn't suppress a pang of regret and memories of another prince and another rose, another knowing smile, long ago.


	2. Rebirth and Reunion

A/N: Uh. Well. Basically, I can't be bothered dealing with the whole Starlights-as-females thing. It's simply not the point. So they're guys. With boobs, occasionally, but. Yeah – I'm just refusing to address it. 

There was something infinitely confusing about the birth of Chibi-Usa; Usagi had already /met/ her daughter, but when she was older - not this tiny, red-faced, screaming child with a spray of pink fuzz atop her head. At least there was no trouble in choosing a name; Usagi Small Lady Serenity Tsukino she was, and had been for centuries before her birth. However, there was something innately wrong about birthing and naming a girl who had been a sister, friend, and comrade to her long before their reign.

Small Lady's birth – exactly a year from her parents' wedding and coronation - was greeted by the people as would be expected; the young heir's arrival was widely proclaimed but, as with all such events, a formal presentation to the court was required and planned with all due pomp.

It was at this presentation – Usagi revelling in her freedom from the confining weight of pregnancy and expessing such in a confection of silver silk and pearls, and her daughter dressed to match and entirely unaware of the ceremony her existence demanded – that she saw him again.

Dignitaries from all stars both known to the court and free of the taint of darkness were, of course, invited; called back from their duties across the system, the senshi were entitled guests of honour and took the opportunity to reunite and reminisce. Again, there was a certain discrepancy, one only those former comrades were aware of, as Hotaru cradled her best friend in her arms, her eyes sad and wistful. They, too, stood upon the dais on which the royal persons sat, greeting those come to pay their respects. While dressed for the event, only a blind and stupid man could suggest that they were not entirely poised to jump into battle – that those relaxed, laughing stances were anything more than a thin charming façade at such a public event.

They relaxed only for the moment at which Princess Kakyuu and her retinue approached the dais to offer their compliments and wellwishes. While not comrades as such for all their battles, these four were forever marked as safe; while not considered a debt as such, there was too much between these senshi to worry about betrayal.

Long-term association also removed the need for the impressive birthing gifts customary to such an event. As their titles were sung loudly to announce their presence, Seiya stepped forward, level with his princess, to pass her a single, symbolic red rose, this in turn proffered to the Queen.

That this gift was technically from the head of their party did nothing to stop Seiya from raising his head just enough for blue eyes to meet blue, glittering with something not quite bitter amusement. Cradling the rose carefully in her hands, as though it were made of final crystal, he was perhaps the only one to notice the way Queen Serenity's cheeks blanched, and her gaze faltered, just a moment. Shamed, he returned his gaze to the floor, stood with his fellows, and turned to let the next dignitaries make their obeisance.

Upon the dais, King Endymion did, in fact, notice his wife, Queen and friend's discomfort; accurately guessing the source, he sneaked her hand into his and squeezed gently in reassurance – to those in the grand courtroom, excluding the Senshi, a romantic gesture but with entirely different implications to those in the know. She smiled up at him, eyes momentarily bleak, then forced herself back into cheer and, smiling, accepted the words of some pompous fool and his lovely but dull wife.


	3. Breakfast

A/N: They'll have a conversation sometime soon. Wasn't even certain I'd continue this; I certainly have no idea where it's going. Glad you're enjoying it, though – or at least the reviewers suggest as much. So, here we go again.

Traditionally – within the reaches of the Moon Kingdom of old, at least - despite the intimate nature of the relationship between monarchs, the King and Queen had separate quarters; an entire tower of spiraling opalescent moonstone each, in fact. While initially Serenity and Endymion had begun their reign intending to break such tradition, later realizations had them following the traditions of their lunar heritage. The towers – slender but tall – were connected by a shared common and dining room, wherein private meals and informal audiences tended to be held.

After a night largely spent in the King's tower (for the most part a bachelor's pad, although with the touches of femininity that Usagi had veritably forced upon him) conversing about such personal things as would usually be between women, Usagi was first to emerge, in a pink nightgown notably less expensive than might be expected of a young queen. Blonde hair loose from their odango and tangled, yawning sleepily, she had evidently forgotten the breakfast organized for her comrades in the common room.

This, perhaps, would not have been problematic; this breakfast had become a tradition of a different kind, for when the senshi were reunited after attending their duties, and the girls had seen Usagi in states of undress since long before her crowning. Those people covered by the term 'comrade' had, however, been extended for the morning – because surely Kakyuu and the Starlights could not be excluded from such company.

Usagi's eyes snapped wide as Ami, ever tactful, coughed quietly as warning; her composure of the previous night long abandoned, the blonde fairly /screeched/, cheeks flushing red, as she realized exactly was going on. Kakyuu lifted a hand to cover a smile; Taiki and Yaten grinned openly, and Seiya did his best to present amusement and nothing more.

Minako, less subtle even than the Starlights, was giggling openly.

"Oh no, oh no oh no oh no!" Usagi fled to the other end of the room, flinging open a door and flying up the stairs and out of view.

Mamoru, not far behind her – ever more organized, and with access to clothes of his own anyway – caught only a flurry of pink and blonde hair as he emerged. Frowning in faint confusion, his expression cleared as his gaze fell upon Seiya and the others, and he returned their grin.

"She'll be back in an hour or two," he commented dryly, settling at one end of the table. "Probably."

It wasn't quite that long; long enough for Usagi to thoroughly clean her face of old tears, sleep, and sheer, unadulterated embarrassment, certainly. While she certainly had the right to a retinue of maidens to aid her dressing and doing her hair, thus far she had forgone them, except for special occasions. And – despite the way her heart stuttered at the thought of Seiya downstairs, waiting with the others – these breakfasts had never been formal. Dressing swiftly enough in a plain pink sundress, the skirt swirling around her knees as she turned to check her reflection, she was tugging a brush through her hair as she returned to the common room, desperately trying not to blush.

Perhaps regretting her giggles, or simply sympathizing with her friend, Minako jumped to her feet as Usagi settled in her chair, stealing the hairbrush and beginning to draw it through the impossibly long strands.

"It's a pity your hair refuses to be short," she mused absently, "I mean, it's totally unfair to all the ladies trying to emulate you! I remember when it first started growing out…"

Her words prompted those at the table to break the almost awkward quiet. As trays of breakfast foods, mostly sweet, were brought to the table, the inner senshi began chattering about times of old – before their knowledge of the outer senshi and dangers beyond Beryl and Metallia. At the end of the table closer to Mamoru, the Outer Senshi exchanged pleasantries with Kakyuu and her retinue; strained at first, the air was broken when Michiru teasingly reminded Seiya of his intrusion into her dressing room, all those years ago.

When Haruka puffed up in (partially) mock-outrage at the reminder, Michiru raised sea-green eyes to her lover, quirking a brow and flicking a glance in Usagi's direction. She was the only one – except for the quiet and ever-perceptive Kakyuu – who had noticed Seiya's withdrawal, his frequent searching glances towards the other end of the table.

"Ahh, well. You were lucky you fled that night – wouldn't be on such good terms otherwise, I don't think," Haruka commented, grinning; her attention drawn to Seiya's behaviour, she settled down again. No danger to her beloved here – and, since the Starlights were unaware of how things stood between the King and Queen, it would be best to keep the younger senshi distracted until Usagi had come to some decision.

Seiya, avoiding the knowing looks directed his way by three pairs of discerning eyes, forced a laugh and grinned. "You're just jealous because we'd look so good together," he replied.

Haruka said something pithy; all the same, she returned his grin. From that point, both ends of the long dining table relaxed and reminisced about old times over croissants and jam, well on until lunch – at which point Usagi leapt to her feet and promptly decided that they would all go on a picnic for the rest of the day, entirely ignoring the duties of her station.

There were no complaints – least of all from Seiya, who, despite intending not to come between Usagi and her husband, was growing increasingly agitated at the distance between himself and his old friend, incurred by the seating order at the table.

Vowing to speak to her semi-privately at least once that day, he followed the others, leisurely walking down to meet Usagi, who had run off to the kitchen to 'beg' food from her kitchen staff.


End file.
